


i took your matches before fire could catch me

by iPhone



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22047229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone
Summary: Beca and Chloe will always cross paths—the first year after the USO tour. Beca-centric.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 34
Kudos: 239





	i took your matches before fire could catch me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Taylor Swift’s “Dear John”
> 
> This was a very different story when I first started working on it at the beginning of this year. I'm not sure I like where it ended up going, but I wanted to share it anyway. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Happy NYE!

##  _January_

The first time they see each other again, Chloe is in Los Angeles for a weekend and Beca had agreed to meet for coffee.

The first few months after the USO tour, they had been busy with moving, with starting school, with starting a new album, so it had been easier to avoid each other.

But Beca _misses_ Chloe and she knows Chloe feels some of the same emptiness or she wouldn’t have agreed to meet Beca for coffee. Or so Beca tells herself.

It had been awkward at the beginning, but Beca found herself becoming more comfortable as the hours passed and before she knew it, she was standing quickly as Chloe gathered her bag and phone, looking ready to leave.

Chloe smiles at Beca then. It is not quite forced, but Beca sees some strain in it—some desperation. “I hope we stay friends,” she says softly. Beca feels sick and her throat tightens around the emotions that well up inside her. And to make it worse, Chloe continues: “I care about you.”

Heat and moisture spike alarmingly quick beneath Beca’s eyelids. “Friends,” she repeats, tasting the word on her tongue.

(Friends, like how she and Chloe had started; friends, like how they had been just before the depth of their feelings for each other slipped into something more; friends, like they had been when Beca had grabbed Chloe’s jacket and kissed her with everything she had.)

“Yeah, obviously,” Beca says quickly when she realizes Chloe is still staring at her. “Of course. Why couldn’t we be? Friends, I mean. We were before. We still are.”

It is uncommonly cool in Los Angeles, even for January standards, so Beca attributes the shiver that rushes through her body when Chloe’s hand brushes her own to the weather and nothing more.

* * *

(So they _should_ probably talk about that kiss. The kiss that shouldn’t have happened, but Beca, in a fit of possession and jealousy upon seeing Chicago smiling at Chloe, had grabbed Chloe’s jacket and pulled her in for a kiss.

The shock in Chloe’s eyes had been reflected in Beca’s, but neither of them knew what else to do or say.

Not many more words were exchanged, even when Beca had led Chloe back up to her hotel room and the door had clicked shut behind them.)

* * *

##  _February_

Beca isn't a jealous person. Not at all. Not one bit.

Besides, she really shouldn't be, she tells herself derisively. They were _never_ really friends, even when they technically were. Even when they were co-captains. Even when they shared a house for three years. There was always some complicated underlying attraction to each other and the pressure to perform and put on a show—both in their personal lives and on stage—which translated into a consistently-strained relationship. 

And _God_ , it’s _Valentine’s Day_ for fuck’s sake. Beca hadn’t been expecting to see Chloe in Los Angeles of all places, considering how hard it seemed for Chloe to have made the trip in the past few weeks whenever Beca had suggested a visit.

Beca attempts to let some bitterness seep out of her.

Chloe looks...beautiful. _Stunning. Radiant._ All the things Beca loves about Chloe shine through tonight. Beca spots her nearly immediately when she walks in and tunes out of the company she held within her perch in the VIP booth. Chloe is wearing her favourite ripped jeans and a pretty white top that just _screams_ for something to be spilt on it. And yet, she dances without a care in the world. Her right palm is open, dying to be held. Her left hand clutches a wine glass, liquid precariously licking up the edges. Wine, of all things, in an upscale club in downtown Los Angeles.

Chloe spots her fairly quickly. The surprise in her eyes must be reflected in Beca’s own, but Beca makes no move to get out of her booth for the time being. It’s then that she notices Chloe can’t stop _staring_ at her. It is only a product of the way Beca can’t keep her eyes off Chloe, but the way Chloe’s piercing blue gaze always seems to meet her gaze in return indicates that it’s a mutual sensation.

Finally, it is Chloe who musters up the courage to say hello first. Soft and quiet, unexpectedly appearing by Beca’s shoulder as she stands by the bar, finally escaping the sanctuary of her cordoned-off area.

“Hey,” Chloe’s voice sounds excitedly near her ear. "Beca, hi!"

Beca startles, nearly dropping her drink. “Chloe. Hey.”

“Letting loose tonight?”

Beca laughs, short and mildly acerbic. It is both comforting and unsettling how easy it is to fall into old habits with Chloe—how easy it is to want to open up to Chloe and trust her and love her all at once. “No,” she responds. “Just kind of scoping out the venue.” She takes a quick gulp of her drink for courage. “Are you here alone? _Why_ are you here?”

“There was a conference in town,” Chloe explains, quicker than Beca expects. “A bunch of us took the night off.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Beca says. Or at least, she tries to say because she is cut off by an excited voice calling Chloe’s name and a large, male body appearing by her side. Beca swallows and tries to look anywhere else but the way his hand curls around Chloe’s hip with familiarity.

“Beca,” Chloe says questioningly when she notices that Beca is trying to inch away.

“It was nice to see you, Chloe.” _I’m so glad we’re friends_ , Beca adds as an afterthought in her mind. She swallows back the sharp taste of her drink and looks instead for the closest pair of interested eyes.

“Hey, wait a second,” Chloe calls and before Beca realizes what is happening and before she can really dwell on anybody, Chloe’s hand is wrapping gently around her wrist. “Can we talk?”

“We’re talking now.”

Chloe scowls and shoots a glance over her shoulder at _Nondescript Jock #5_ before she is pushing Beca towards the women’s bathroom. 

“ _What_ are you doing?” Beca demands.

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

Chloe frowns. “Extra Beca-like.”

“I don’t know what that means.” 

“Of course you don’t—you never do, do you?”

“I _really_ don’t know what that means.”

They’re breathing heavily, both of them standing toe to toe. Around them, the bass pounds and the percussion line is strong, but Beca only feels the pounding of her own heart. This feels too raw—too much like how they had separated after Europe, only this is just a continuation of that ugliness.

( _“So you’re just walking away. Again.”_

_“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Chloe.”_

_“I’m not the one being difficult. You’re the one who’s afraid.”_ )

She hates how much she wants to kiss Chloe.

Beca sighs, some of the fight leaving her. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you. Here. When you’re supposed to be in Philadelphia.” 

“I honestly wasn’t expecting to see you here either. I'm not trying to...” Chloe's mouth twists unhappily. "Not trying to stalk you or anything. I'm just happy we ran into each other because we need to—"

“—maybe we should just pretend we never saw each other.”

Hurt flashes across Chloe’s eyes.

“Beca, wait—”

* * *

##  _March_

_i didn't mean it, i'm sorry_ , Beca writes and rewrites in her phone. Over and over. It's like a ritual.

Nothing really works anymore.

When Beca falls asleep, it’s the same dream, the one she had almost every night for months after she moved to L.A.. Chloe is waiting for her when she gets in the door.

She smiles.

She kisses Beca.

She says, “Welcome home.”

Beca shakes off the fantasy, anger and hurt coursing through her. _Screw you, Mitchell_.

They haven’t really spoken for weeks. Beca is more comfortable at this distance, content on muting Chloe’s social media profiles and pretending like Chloe isn’t totally seeing that guy that she claims to _not_ be seeing.

And the thing is, there isn't really a reason for Chloe to _lie_ to her (even if Beca hasn't really given any concrete reason for Chloe to stay), but the sting of seeing Chloe flirt with Chicago incessantly is still sharp in Beca's memory, so she does the completely grown-up thing and rage-likes a bunch of Chloe’s Instagram and Facebook posts and sends petty emoji-reactions to some of Chloe’s Instagram stories. She hates the flash of vindication that rushes through her when Chloe texts her not too long after.

_Hey, how are you?_

It’s what she wanted, but she feels gross and petty and not at all like the adult her legal documents claim she is. Beca groans at the still unanswered text message. It’s dumb how jealous she is—how upset she is over something that might or might not be true. She’s trying her best to move on and to stay friends with Chloe because it’s what Chloe _wanted_.

It’s what they both wanted.

Before Beca has a chance to say anything, bubbles appear again, indicating that Chloe is typing.

 _i’m sorry if things are weird_ , the text reads. _is everything okay with us?  
_

Then, _beca, please_

Beca slowly blinks at the series of words. She feels nothing but tiredness within her. Her eyes are dry. 

She falls asleep with her phone in her hand.

* * *

Aubrey is an unexpected confidante. It does feel a little self-sabotaging considering Aubrey’s relationship with Chloe.

“For what it’s worth, Chloe has told me some things,” Aubrey says carefully. “So I’m not completely in the dark, even if it surprises me that you’re calling me at all.”

“I think that we can be friends,” Beca replies. “We just need some time. Everything is too raw right now.”

Aubrey sighs. “You’re both fools.”

“It’s just...hard to get over her,” Beca admits.

“Why do you have to do that at all?”

The truth is, she doesn't. She's just so used to running—all her life, she only ever ran. Only a select handful of people were willing to give chase.

* * *

She gives it another week—just a few more days to gather her wits.

Chloe sounds so relieved to hear her voice. It makes Beca feel all kinds of horrible, but Chloe never dwells on that.

And like her body is enjoying playing cruel tricks on her, she dreams of Chloe that night—dreams and _remembers_ what it had been like to hold Chloe close, to kiss her that fateful night before her mind and her heart decided to do the stupid thing and fall in love.

(But that happened long ago, nothing Beca could really do about it now.)

* * *

##  _April_

Being in frequent contact with Chloe again means that Beca knows she’s not really dating anybody even if there is some guy who hangs around her a lot. It’s “super casual” (Chloe’s words) but apparently, he’s a “complete buffoon” (Aubrey’s words), so Beca isn’t quite sure whether she ought to be more supportive or discouraging. In the same vein, through similar channels, Beca knows when the guy isn't really in the picture anymore and she hates how easy it is for her to _breathe_ again.

But Chloe seems _happy_ in general. And coming to terms with the fact that she will always have some unresolved feelings for Chloe Beale...it’s kind of a difficult predicament to be in.

It's not that Beca hasn't been casually seeing people too—she's been on a few dates and only one real hook-up in the past few months, but she hadn't felt much for that person. For any of them really. And she hadn't told Chloe about them, only Amy in passing. Not even Aubrey whom she knows would just pass it on to Chloe.

A part of her almost wants to let Chloe know that she's happy to move on, but it was never really communicated between them that there was anything really to hold on to—at least, not verbally, Beca tells herself.

Beca is just so used to people leaving, it's almost easier to let people realize that she's not worth the trouble than to have them realize it when she's grown too attached. It's fucking depressing, in all honesty, but Beca _hates_ the thought of being left behind. She hates distance and pining and all those things attached to relationships that never end up working out.

Like her parents.

She clenches her fist and attempts to refocus on the track she's meant to be listening to. It's not much of a lead single if it sucks.

"Well?" Jason, her favorite sound engineer asks. "Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?"

Beca glances down at her phone, seeing that a new notification from Chloe is waiting for her.

She forces her thoughts away and shoves her phone into her bag. "Again," she requests. "Play it back."

* * *

_Thought of you today_ , she writes to Chloe later. _This new artist on my label wouldn't shut up about acapella. really took me back._

Chloe's reply is quick. i _can be pretty unforgettable like that._

Beca can just _see_ the smile on her face.

* * *

##  _May_

“Are we okay?” Chloe asks.

Phone calls are more regular now. Hearing Chloe's voice is less painful, but it only makes Beca fall for Chloe _more_ with each interaction.

Beca heaves a sigh. “We are,” she answers honestly. “I promise, Chlo.” 

"Well, then tell me about your day."

"Tell me about yours," Beca challenges.

And just like that, they're okay again.

It's not the easiest, talking to Chloe like everything's okay, but relearning how to be Chloe's friend above all is Beca's priority and she finds that being in love with Chloe and being her friend don't necessarily have to be at odds with each other.

"I'm happy for you," Beca tells her when Chloe finishes a story. She means it.

* * *

##  _June_

It is amidst a small rant about koalas that Chloe casually drops her birthday plans over the phone to Beca.

“You’re throwing a party?” 

“A gathering,” Chloe explains. “For my birthday.”

“So a party.”

“ _Beca_ ,” Chloe whines.

“Chloe, that’s-” _great, wonderful, exciting_.

“I was hoping you’d come,” Chloe says before Beca can say anything else like she’s afraid Beca will decline pre-emptively. It’s almost frightening how well Chloe knows Beca, but Beca is a little hurt that Chloe immediately would have jumped to that conclusion. 

“Chloe.”

“It would mean a lot to me if you were there,” Chloe continues. Her voice is strained, but soft around the edges.

“Of course I’ll come,” Beca says with a small smile, even if Chloe can’t see it. “Where will it be?”

Chloe clears her throat. “New York. Because it’s easier for me and the girls are pretty close by. And Amy already offered her space.”

Beca tries not to think about what happened the last time she and Chloe were in New York. “That sounds nice.” She hates how it’s not a _complete_ lie. “Send me the details.”

Chloe makes some kind of excited squealing sound that nearly deafens Beca, but she can't help but smile.

* * *

Her hands are pushed against Chloe’s chest, desperate to hold onto something—similar to how she had kissed Chloe in France. Chloe’s arms are around Beca’s waist and she thinks maybe Chloe has picked her up off the floor, just slightly, but Beca cannot feel much else than the sensation of Chloe’s lips moving against hers and how tightly she is pressed against Chloe's body.

But that is only for a moment. Hands start pulling at Beca’s shirt and suddenly Chloe’s fingers are tracing the skin of her lower back. She whimpers against Chloe’s mouth.

They were supposed to be cleaning up.

This feeling is painfully familiar: Chloe’s kisses send surges of electricity and passion through Beca’s whole body.

It is as if every interaction they’ve had the past year has been leading to _this._ This—this is everything and Beca feels as if every fragmented piece of her being can finally relax; like every piece of her soul is where it’s meant to be. 

“Beca,” Chloe breathes out. She is still kissing her, so it suddenly tastes like tears between their lips and Beca’s not sure which one of them has started to cry, but she can’t stop kissing, can’t stop pulling Chloe closer, always closer.

"I don't know how to be without you," Chloe whispers. "Stop pushing me away." That alone causes a surge of emotion to rise up in Beca's chest and she pushes forward again, this time _almost_ capturing Chloe's mouth, unable to resist even if they're both somehow still crying amidst a small pile of solo cups and garbage bags. 

"We're drunk," Beca whispers back. They're not.

"We're not," Chloe murmurs, but she steps back anyway, respectful of Beca's space.

It is when Chloe turns back around, clearly intent on finishing their task that Beca grabs her wrist and pulls her, reminiscent of how Chloe had pulled her all those years ago, into her orbit; how Chloe had pulled her all those months ago into the bathroom into the club. 

Chloe's mouth is opening against her own before Beca realizes what she's doing, but she is too powerless to resist.

"I'll stop if you want to stop," Chloe murmurs, her hands already dipping beneath the waistband of Beca's pants. 

"We should stop," Beca admits with a broken tone.

* * *

Chloe has to catch a fairly early train back to Philadelphia, so Beca feigns sleep for a bit, even though she knows it is a fruitless attempt at avoidance. Still, they spent the night together—totally innocent—and Beca didn't combust on the spot, so she considers that a success.

"You're not allowed to avoid me," Chloe whispers, pressing a kiss to Beca's forehead. "I'm calling you the moment I reach my dorm." 

* * *

##  _July_

Fourth of July in New York—it is Aubrey’s bright idea and Amy willingly hosts. She somehow now owns two apartments in a nice walk-up. Beca is only mildly envious.

She isn’t really expecting Chloe to gravitate right towards her, but she has been thinking of that kiss (and almost-something-more) at Chloe’s birthday party for the past _month_. And she’s sure Chloe has as well if the furtive glances she continues to shoot towards Beca are any indication.

(Their phone conversations have been strained, but Chloe is an attentive friend and cares about Beca's wellbeing above all, so she never pushes—has never pushed since they last had a hard conversation after the tour.)

But still, neither makes a move. Beca can see Aubrey glaring at her from across the room.

It isn’t that she and Chloe have been totally distant from each other. Their texts have become more frequent and increasingly flirty in ways that Beca had missed. After the USO tour, she wasn’t sure she’d ever interact like that with Chloe again.

But their lives have kind of evened out. Chloe is pretty much done with the first year of veterinary school and Beca’s almost done with her album. It’s weird to see her face on magazine covers and to have to engage in interviews, but it’s pretty worthwhile having Chloe send her excited text messages and photos of magazines whenever she spots Beca’s face.

The _miss yous_ and heart emojis are a nice touch.

Beca nearly drops her phone when she hears the unmistakable clang of somebody climbing down the fire-escape steps. Glancing up, she catches the barest hint of familiar red hair and torn jeans.

Briefly, Beca wonders who she pissed off in a past life.

“There you are,” Chloe says brightly, once her feet touch the ground. She sways a little and Beca immediately stands to help her right herself, lest she topple right over the edge of the railing. Chloe heaves a breath and smiles gratefully at Beca.

Beca frowns, taking in the flush on Chloe’s face and the way her eyes shine brightly.

“Can you just...be careful? What if you hurt yourself?” Beca asks before she can stop herself. She sighs, running her hand over her face as Chloe makes herself comfortable. 

“I was looking for you,” Chloe replies, a little petulantly. She pushes her forehead against Beca’s shoulder in an attempt to nudge her. The touch alone makes Beca nearly recoil completely. “Why have you been avoiding me?” Chloe continues, voice muffled against Beca’s jacket. Whether she means over the past few hours or over the past four weeks, she doesn’t clarify, so Beca doesn’t offer a response.

Beca wants to laugh, however. Her brain isn’t working quite at full speed at the moment, because of the double hit of intoxication - both alcohol and Chloe Beale have similar effects on her. Willing herself not to snap at Chloe, she inhales sharply, trying to ignore the way Chloe’s breath feels against her neck. How Chloe’s breath smells a little like her favourite red wine. 

Speaking of–

Beca glances at the wine bottle in Chloe’s hand. “You swiped that from the party?”

Chloe seems to brighten upon noticing that Beca is engaging with her in conversation. “Yeah! Want some?”

It is somehow so familiar and so devastatingly _Chloe_ that Beca’s chest aches for a few moments as she takes in the graceful tilt of Chloe’s neck and the high flush on her cheeks.

The attraction reverberates through Beca like a persistent ache.

She isn’t sure what she is meant to say to Chloe. Not when all this air hangs in between them. The air is thick, rife with all the things that remain unspoken.

This uncharted territory is anxiety-inducing for Beca – perhaps for them both. Chloe for all her confidence and charm is surprisingly shy and insecure – a fact Beca came to know with time during their romance and even further back, their friendship. So now, Beca is keenly aware of how Chloe’s foot taps out a nervous little rhythm from where she sits beside Beca, both of them leaning back as comfortably as they can.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Chloe asks again, softer and less accusatory. “And not just _now_. Since—” her voice wavers. “Since Europe. The tour. Since my birthday. Since always.”

“Chloe,” Beca says, sharper than she originally intends. She leans back, resting her head against brick. _Good_ , she thinks, hoping against hope that her brain connects with her mouth and leaves her heart out of the equation. Beca takes the chance to look at Chloe then, wondering if there are parts of Chloe that she doesn’t know—if there are things that Chloe holds close to herself, like secrets that Beca will never get the chance to know.

Chloe looks like she might say something, so Beca holds her breath, waiting for the onslaught of ash and tainted air. Instead, Chloe’s brow furrows and she takes another swig of wine straight from the bottle—a long one—before she offers the bottle to Beca, eyebrow raised expectantly.

Beca accepts.

* * *

It doesn’t take long at all. Chloe’s is hot against her neck, from where Chloe has turned her face and her lips brush ever so slightly against Beca’s skin. July in New York means the weather is hot, but that is nothing compared to the heat that spreads from the wet, open-mouthed kiss Chloe places against Beca’s neck.

Beca turns more fully to face Chloe—to question her, really—but she finds her own body automatically reacting to Chloe’s proximity. Her hands are cupping Chloe’s cheeks before she realizes what is happening.

“Please,” Chloe murmurs against her mouth.

Beca was always rotten at saying _no_ to Chloe.

And like clockwork, Beca’s heart pounds erratically when Chloe’s eyes fix on her—when Chloe locks her gaze on Beca with intent and purpose.

“Fuck it,” Beca mumbles.

* * *

Beca thinks she whispers “I love you” into Chloe’s ear.

She thinks it might be between orgasms - between their attempt to move to the bed and Chloe shoving her against the door of Amy's guest bedroom. Together, they maneuvered past countless bodies, ignoring anybody who tried to speak to them. _Give me this one night,_ Beca thinks desperately.

She feels it so deeply and knows it to be so true and honest - the fact that she loves Chloe Beale with everything in her even if the way they’re fucking each other might kill them both.

She loves Chloe and she can’t hide it because it hurts too much. She never should have tried to hide it.

All at once, memories from the year before come crashing back, slamming down walls Beca thought she fortified.

* * *

_“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Beca asks. Demands. She feels hot and angry and upset all at once, watching Chloe make her way slowly across the room. Away from her. Defensiveness is her go-to in moments like this because it feels like too much at once._

_At that, Chloe turns around, her own eyes alight with something almost unrecognizable. “Do you know how long_ I _wanted this from you, Beca? How long I waited and waited until it—”_

_Beca’s heart pounds. “Until what,” she repeats, a little hollowly. “You waited until the last possible second?”_

_“Ask me to stay,” Chloe says instead. “Tell me you want me to stay and you want me. That you’ll still want me while you’re in L.A. and I’m holed up in Philly. I’ll stay with you. Wherever you go.”_

_“You can’t stay,” Beca says weakly even though what Chloe asks of her isn't completely off-base. “Chloe, what the fu—Chlo,” she tries desperately. “I would never ask you to stay. I would never stop you from…” she gestures vaguely. “Vet school,” she says half-heartedly._

_“That’s crap and you know it. Tell me to stay.”_

_She doesn't. She can't._

* * *

She doesn't tell Chloe to stay, but it isn't her fault, not entirely. It's kind of hard with Aubrey banging on the door and demanding that they make themselves available for fireworks.

Beca catches a hint of a smile on Chloe's face.

(It ends up being the inspiration she needs to really finish up her album. She doesn't want to dwell on the past.)

* * *

##  _August_

It’s Amy’s birthday (supposedly), so Beca can’t really find an excuse _not_ to come. She’s trying to be a better friend and all.

And Chloe is Chloe, so she’s one of the first people to hit “attending”.

It is inevitable that their paths would cross again, sharing the same friend group. It takes everything in Beca to muster up the willpower to drag herself out of her temporary New York apartment—her new summer digs and all—and over to Amy’s apartment, which happens to be in the same building. Walking up a couple flights of stairs has never been a more nerve-wracking activity.

Beca immediately makes her way over to the laptop in the corner, taking in the songs Amy has lined up on her playlist. She fiddles with the order a little, glancing up a few times to take stock of the room.

“She’s not here yet,” comes Amy’s clear voice.

Beca jumps, nearly knocking the laptop clean off the shelf. “Amy,” she greets. “I was uh…looking for you. Happy birthday!” she exclaims, injecting real cheer in her voice before pulling Amy in for a hug.

“Thank you,” Amy replies brightly, though her tone does nothing to belie the suspicion. Beca tries to ignore the suspicion in Amy’s eyes. Most of the Bellas know that Beca and Chloe had a falling out, but they don’t know the extent, which, well…Beca supposes that’s the whole point of a secret fling.

Beca swallows and steadies herself before she manages to lift her eyes to look at Amy once more. “Drinks?” she requests finally, hoping the rasp in her voice stays out.

“Sure, right this way, my little DJ.” Amy wraps a firm arm around her and suddenly Beca is being very nearly hoisted through the crowd. “You got the playlist I sent you right?”

“Yes, I’m confused as to why you sent to me though.”

“Aren’t you DJ-ing my party?” Amy asks, mild confusion coloring her tone.

“I guess I am now,” Beca says after a moment. She’s not exactly going to pass up the opportunity to drink in the corner while staring at a long list of music and shuffling songs out of order.

“Not too famous yet, huh?” Amy jokes.

“Nope,” Beca says quickly, refocusing on Amy’s laptop.

Especially when the alternative is to stare at a certain somebody from across the room with incomparable longing.

* * *

Chloe’s eyes meet hers from across the room and like a sharp bolt of lightning, Beca finds herself as stiff as a board because Chloe still has that effect on her. Especially with the sharp, vivid memory of Chloe’s lips against her own; Chloe’s hands on her body. Her body tenses even more when she realizes Chloe is making her way towards her. Beca attempts to pretend as if she hadn’t been staring at Chloe for the better part of the evening.

Beca has zero idea how Chloe plans to manage their newfound friendship now with all their history between them. Even now, with Chloe looking at her with bright blue eyes—open and filled with emotion—Beca can’t help but have very…decidedly not friendly thoughts about the woman standing in front of her. Philadelphia has evidently been kind to Chloe, kinder than Chloe’s social media posts have let on. Her hair is longer and her cheeks are just a bit rosier, but eyes are the brightest Beca has ever seen.

So she makes her way out onto the fire escape and climbs down to her own apartment, breathing a sigh of relief at the instant solitude she feels.

“Hi,” Chloe greets from above, having followed Beca like she anticipated.

Beca glances up quickly. "Hey," she replies, willing her racing heart to calm down. Chloe makes quick work of the steps and is soon standing next to Beca.

Chloe looks like she is about to step forward into Beca’s space for a quick moment—a quick moment like so many before—and Beca’s body just _reacts_. Her skin starts to tingle, her lips part and her mouth dries, and every single body seems to light aflame. Her hands twitch by her sides because every last instinct wants her to move forward; wants her to push into Chloe’s body; wants her to put their lips together.

It _feels_ like a craving at least—a desperate need to fill something that has remained empty for too long. Her emotional reserves are plentiful and her body aches to remind both herself and Chloe of what they had.

(One month apart is entirely too long.)

From the way Chloe continues to gaze at her as the silence expands between them, Beca thinks maybe kissing her wouldn’t be a completely horrible idea.

The clang of the bottle against the fire escape startles Beca but before she can say anything or ask Chloe anything, Chloe all but has her pressed against the hard brick exterior of the building and her lips are sliding sloppily against Beca’s like the last few weeks never happened—like they spent no time apart at all. 

Beca’s hands automatically grip Chloe’s hips as best as she can, twisting her body to face Chloe more fully. Chloe hums quietly into their kiss - a sound Beca has missed so terribly. It sends both a jolt of sadness and arousal through Beca, forcing her to tighten her grip in the fabric of Chloe’s shirt. 

A part of her desperately believes they should stop—that this is wholly inappropriate considering the delicate balance of emotions they’ve struck up between them since that last night in France. Since that last night in June. All the months before.

(But in _France_ , that first time will always remain a pivotal moment—Beca slides her hand down Chloe’s side reverently, wonder in her eyes. She memorizes and memorizes, in awe of each touch and each sound. Everything is _new_ and passionate, burning brightly like the embers of what could be a new love.

And she knows Chloe feels the same.) 

But Beca craves this from Chloe - the affection, the touch - the _passion_.

Leaning further into the kiss, Beca can taste the alcohol on Chloe’s tongue - a hint of tequila and lime, red wine, and perhaps more. Beca wonders what her own tongue tastes like - wonders if Chloe likes the way she tastes still.

Assaulted by the myriad of thoughts that threaten to overtake her, Beca is overwhelmed simultaneously by Chloe’s tongue and her hands roaming freely across Beca’s body. 

It’s quick, the way Chloe’s fingers deftly unbutton Beca’s jeans. Beca is suddenly conscious with the rough brick behind her head.

“Should we…” Beca clears her throat and tries to focus because Chloe’s lips are molten against her skin. 

“Should we…” Chloe echoes softly, tilting her head back up to press her nose against Beca’s jaw. “I want you,” she whispers, reassurance in her voice, like she worried briefly that Beca was concerned at all about whether Chloe still desired her. 

...she had been a little concerned, maybe.

Beca can only nod against the onslaught of feelings and sensation, opting to chase Chloe’s mouth with her own. She soaks through her underwear at the feeling of Chloe’s fingers skimming along the skin of her hip. 

Chloe touches her surely and boldly, even though Beca thinks they absolutely shouldn’t be doing this in full view of a public street. Yet, for once, the streets are quiet and only the sounds of Amy’s party echo from above them. Everybody is involved in their own lives—their their own parties. Nobody is looking up. All Beca knows—all she can feel is the sure, steady glide of Chloe’s fingers against the front of her underwear. She barely resists from taking Chloe’s hand and shoving it straight into her underwear, but even if she wanted to do so, her body is rendered immobile for the time being. 

Chloe has that effect on her: the effect of being rendered completely helpless because all she wants to do is give herself to Chloe over and over again, even if her heart cries out for some relief.

Beca thinks she curses or at least that something escapes her, but Chloe’s fingers are persistently rubbing at her clit through her underwear and her mouth is latched onto Beca’s jaw. 

It’s hard to think, not while Chloe’s fingers hold no rhythm of their own. They bump and push at Beca’s clit in time with the hot pulse between her legs – like Chloe _knows_ enough about Beca’s body to intuitively feel out how close Beca is to her orgasm already.

(Kissing Chloe always was enough to bring her simultaneous ecstasy and joy.)

Chloe’s breath catches occasionally, when her fingers slip down – down to slowly rub and drag Beca’s ruined underwear between her distinctly swollen folds. Her hips buck up and she briefly wonders what would happen if they happened to fall to their death.

She can’t process much else because she’s clamping her own hand between her legs, stilling Chloe’s hand. She just needs Chloe to _stay_ – to stop for a moment because it feels too good and she wants it to _last_ –

Beca’s not sure how long the ache between her legs lasts, but before long she’s coming apart in Chloe’s arms, eyes nearly crossing from the white-hot pleasure that rushes through her. Her clit throbs and licks against the fabric of her now embarrassingly damp underwear.

“I— _fuck_ ,” she breathes out, trying to get something articulate to leave her lips, but Chloe’s hand, still warm and wet, finds its way to her jaw and grips it tightly enough that Beca’s eyes fly open, only to see the fresh desire in Chloe’s eyes. 

“I want you,” Chloe mumbles again, leaning in to kiss Beca so thoroughly and steadily that Beca almost forgets they’re drunk. Almost forgets that they’re on the fire escape of her shoddy rented New York apartment because she lives there (because she had jumped at the chance to live there because it brought her thousands of miles closer to Chloe Beale) with her pants partway down her thighs. Almost forgets how uncomfortably wet her underwear is. She jolts, her thigh brushing against the cold leather of couch. “So much,” Chloe continues, voice strained and desperate.

“I want you, too,” Beca chokes out, between kisses. Chloe’s death grip on her jaw loosens and they’re collapsing back into each other, a collision of alcohol-warmed bodies, fuelled by the pain of missing each other to the point of devastating heartbreak.

It’s not a lie. She wants Chloe to the point of frustration. Frustration with herself, frustration with everything about their situation.

And yet, she can’t help herself from sinking into Chloe’s kiss, her familiar touch, her familiar nips and bites across her skin.

“In-inside,” Beca manages to say between Chloe’s increasingly frenzied kisses. “We should go-“ She barely manages to halt Chloe’s hand from sliding back between her legs. Instead, she intertwines their fingers, tries to slow down. “We should go inside,” she manages to clarify. 

Chloe pants out against her mouth and nods so slightly that Beca almost misses it. She only feels the barest brush of Chloe’s lips against her own - the marker of Chloe’s nod - before she’s drunkenly pulling Chloe inside the room. Chloe has the sense of mind to grab the mostly empty wine bottle. She drops it on one of Beca’s side tables and they barely make it over the couch before they’re a mess of limbs and badly-aimed kisses. Beca’s back hits the couch, but only barely and they’re both kind of collapsing onto the ground with soft thumps.

Beca fumbles with Chloe’s hair and clothes in a scramble to push up off the ground. “Bed,” she tries to say, but Chloe’s lips are forceful and passionate. Instead, Beca’s sure she only manages to make some kind of garbled moan because Chloe’s fingers are pinching insistently at her nipple and Chloe’s lips are latched onto her neck.

Before Beca can do much else, Chloe is pushing herself off Beca’s upper body, breathing heavily. Beca can make out the desire in Chloe’s eyes. She can also make out the smudge of Chloe’s lipstick and the swell of her lips. She opens her mouth to tell Chloe how pretty she is, but she halts, watching Chloe’s hands tremble as they pull her pretty blue shirt over her head. Beca swallows, leaning up on her elbow to watch Chloe’s progress. Chloe pulls her jeans down, lifting off Beca momentarily to do so. It’s less graceful than either of them anticipates because she very nearly rolls off Beca to do so, kicking at her legs in a desperate attempt to remove her clothing. 

Beca reaches (eagerly) for the elastic of Chloe’s underwear, desperate to see all of her again - desperate to relearn Chloe’s body. To her surprise, Chloe bats her hands away and moves to pull down Beca’s already unbuttoned pants all the way. Beca bites her lip and sits up further to help Chloe by pulling off her own t-shirt, tossing it somewhere behind her. She doesn’t remember taking off her jacket, but she’s sure she had it on earlier. Nothing matters, however, because Chloe is draping herself back over Beca’s body, tangling one hand firmly into Beca’s hair and letting the other grip Beca’s hip with almost bruising pressure. 

Beca wonders if there’s anything new about Chloe’s body – if there’s anything new about the curves and lines and everything in between – based on the time they’ve spent apart. 

Beca moans into the kiss, desperate to feel more of Chloe. She fumbles under Chloe’s bra, trying to find purchase on Chloe’s breasts, squeezing the flesh as best as she can. Chloe’s nipples are hard against her palm and she presses, almost giddy of the familiar feeling (and of the knowledge that she fully manages to incite this reaction in Chloe Beale, still. She craves the feeling of skin against skin, but before she can do anything (not that she could say anything with Chloe’s tongue in her mouth), Chloe is grabbing her wrists and unceremoniously shoving her arms above her head.

“Me first,” Chloe mumbles, eyes nearly crossing as she leans back down towards Beca’s face. Their eyes meet; their breaths intertwine.

Beca can only nod.

* * *

The rest of the night passes in a series of heated, passionate moments.

Chloe’s thumb is perfectly pressed against Beca’s clit through her underwear, while the rest of her hand is splayed out against the front of the lace. Occasionally her nails scratch at the lace, but Beca can barely feel all of that compared to the sensation of how wet Chloe is against her thigh. Chloe bites her lip, grinding down _hard_ against Beca’s thigh while also using her own thigh to press against Beca through her underwear. With her other hand holding Beca’s thigh up and helping her leg wrap around her hip, Beca can very nearly almost feel Chloe’s pussy grinding against hers, with each upwards brush.

“Please,” she chokes out. “Chlo-”

Chloe’s eyes flash and suddenly she disappears. Beca cries out at the loss and tries to sit up.

In her haze—her Chloe-induced haze—she briefly registers the loss of warmth, before her legs are being pushed apart and suddenly Chloe is staring back at her from between her legs. The sight makes Beca collapse back and she only just drapes her arm over her eyes when Chloe licks her right through the goddamned ruined lace. 

It’s a special brand of torture, feeling Chloe’s tongue nudge and prod at her through the lace. She’s soaking through the underwear anyway - she’s sure it clings to her like a second skin. The lace is rough against her – so rough and persistent. She swells with pleasure, trying to squirm up against Chloe’s mouth. Trying to get Chloe to slip beneath her underwear. 

She just wants Chloe’s tongue inside her - she just wants Chloe to _fuck_ her like she did before, that night when everything screamed of potential and before Beca had been too scared and wasted it all away.

Instead, Chloe is sucking her clit through the lace, the duality of how wet the material feels and yet how distinct it feels makes Beca’s entire body buck up and into Chloe’s face _again_ . Every sensation renews the sheer lust she feels, building and building until she can’t stand it any longer. She immediately yanks on Chloe’s hair, unsure of _when_ her hands even found their way into Chloe’s hair.

Chloe concedes and lifts herself back up. Her body covers Beca with heat and endlessly soft skin while Beca awaits the return of Chloe’s lips to her own.

When presented with Chloe’s mouth, she holds Chloe’s face close and licks her tongue into Chloe’s mouth as best as she can, tasting the bits of herself that she left behind.

In her haze – somewhere between alcohol and lust – she thinks she hears Chloe’s moan; she thinks she feels the way it reverberates through her body and settles somewhere at the back of her mind. She desperately tries to cling on to each memory as it passes through her with each swipe of Chloe’s tongue; with each harsh suck.

Then, a sigh against her inner thigh and Chloe's ministrations are slowing to stop. "I love you," she whispers, so softly that Beca nearly misses it. 

But then she can't do much else than gasp for breath and stare at the plain, white ceiling.

 _I love you, too_.

* * *

"Stay," Beca murmurs, pulling Chloe's arm as she moves to leave the warmth of her bed. "You can stay for one more night, right?"

Chloe pauses and turns, her eyes the softest Beca has ever seen them. "I can stay as long as you want me to."

Beca smiles, her vision blurry with unexpected tears. "I've only ever wanted you to stay with me. I was just stupid about it for too long."

"I can do that," Chloe promises. She cups Beca's cheek, but makes no move to wipe away her tears. "I'll do that for as long as you need."

And that means the world, for there was a time where Beca thought she had exhausted all of Chloe's time. But, as with most things, Beca learns how wrong she was.

* * *

##  _September_

Beca is mildly uncomfortable when she wakes up.

...For many reasons, though she assesses that the primary reason appears to be that she’s sleeping on a cheap mattress and her arm is trapped under Chloe’s body. Grimacing, she attempts to roll her shoulders a bit, but winces when that action causes a twinge of pain.

Twisting her head, she catches sight of a tangle of red curls and the smooth, gently freckled back she had come to know so intimately. 

Her heart thuds in her chest, as she twists her body in an attempt to gently extricate her arm from under Chloe’s side. Chloe is breathing steadily and slowly, an indication that she is still asleep. 

She wonders if Chloe dreams of her still, like Beca does; if Chloe dreams of all the things they could do in the future– 

(How close that all came to being _could have done;_ how close that came to being _would have done._ )

Beca pauses in her maneuvering to reach out with her free hand to trace the gentle red lines across Chloe’s back - the remaining marks of Beca’s fingers scratching down the smooth expanse of skin the previous night. The echo of Chloe’s breath hot against her ear and the grip she had maintained on Beca’s thighs rise to the surface, but Beca tamps them down, almost lazily.

She just wants to _be_.

Sighing, Beca turns to cuddle into Chloe’s back fully, basking in the warmth she receives from how close she feels to Chloe at that moment. She tucks herself close, brings her arms up against the smooth skin of Chloe’s back. 

Warmth finally fills her chest.

* * *

When Beca wakes up again, her lips are pressed loosely to Chloe’s shoulder, both of them still in the same position, though this time Chloe has Beca’s hand in a death-grip and pressed tightly against her chest as she slumbers.

Tentatively, Beca curls her fingers, blinking awake when their fingers neatly intertwine, settling against each other neatly and perfectly.

Without thinking, she kisses a trail up Chloe’s shoulder and leans up so she can press a gentle kiss against Chloe’s neck, warm from the ray of sunshine that comes through Beca’s window. It must be mid-day or at least late morning.

Chloe’s body stiffens as she awakens, but Beca isn’t afraid. “Mm,” Chloe moans out. “It’s too early, baby. Go back to sleep and stay in bed with me.”

Beca smiles into the curve of Chloe’s shoulder. “Gladly.”

* * *

##  _October_

“Do we need to book a ticket for your girlfriend?” Theo asks her offhandedly while they’re planning her agenda for the next few months until the end of the year. 

Beca is startled. “Girlfriend,” she echoes.

“Yeah. Chloe, right? Red hair. Taller than you, but not by much.”

“Yeah, no—that’s her. It’s just.” A slow smile spreads across Beca’s face. “She is my girlfriend, huh?”

Theo doesn’t bother responding to that. “Okay so I’m just gonna set aside a ticket for her and she can call me to set up flight details if she wants. _You_ can call me later.”

Beca hangs up with a smile on her face.

Chloe exists her ensuite bathroom, drying her hair. “Who was that?”

Beca stands, reaching out to take Chloe’s towel so she can dry her hair for her. “Just Theo being nosy and asking questions about my _girlfriend_.”

Chloe grins. "And who might that be?"

"Maybe the person who bought these ridiculous matching costumes for a party we really don't have to go to."

* * *

##  _November_

"My dad's like...super happy I'm dating you," Beca says, going for casual. "So would you like to spend Thanksgiving with my family this year?"

The way Chloe tears up and nods enthusiastically is anything but casual.

* * *

##  _December_

They’re snowed in, but Beca isn’t complaining.

“What if you’d met somebody last year?” Chloe asks. “And then we tried that whole being friends thing. Which totally didn’t work, by the way.” She kisses Beca’s neck. “You’re still one of my best friends though.”

"There was like one person," Beca murmurs. "But nothing."

Beca had thought about from time to time. There would be people who caught her eye during that period when she and Chloe weren’t really anything. Before they’d kissed again. She imagined having to tell Chloe she was seeing somebody, the same way Chloe had kind of told her about that kind-of-sort-of-not fling. She wondered what it would have felt like—to be able to have another option. “I guess you wouldn’t have been trying to kiss me all the time,” Beca sighs.

Chloe sighs as well, with some amount of exaggeration. “Bummer.”

“I'd feel bad for them, though,” Beca says, keeping a straight face.

Chloe looks up, alarmed. “Why?”

“Because they’d have to compete with you,” Beca says and she finally cracks a smile. But she isn't laughing or making light of the situation. Just amazed that she's there at all, with Chloe tucked into her side.

Chloe doesn’t reply, but she does gently tilt her head up and kiss Beca’s chin, before maneuvering ever so slightly so she can reach Beca’s lips.

It relaxes all the muscles in Beca’s body and she lets herself get pushed back into their pillows, the solid weight of Chloe’s body gently covering her own.

Beca relishes in the strong pull of Chloe’s fingers and the confidence of her lips as they work their way down Beca’s body with stark familiarity.

Their conversation is forgotten as together, they ring in the new year.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on [Tumblr](http://isthemusictoblame.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/tizzleshizzle).


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